Harry Potter and the Powers that Be
by Principessa54
Summary: When the Powers of the Universe tip the balance of fate lives are changed, for the good, and sometimes, for the bad. With the final fight swiftly approaching in the wizarding world, how will everyone react when the pendulum swings?
1. Chapter 1: Begginings

Harry Potter and the Powers That Be

_"Well my siblings, we meet again," a soft, mysterious voice murmured. Like its owner, the voice was sexless, ageless and powerful. Fate was one of the four powers of the universe sometimes called by mortals the Powers That Be, and it was here to meet with its siblings for the first time in many aeons, if one marked the passing of time in conjunction with Earth. These beings are not bound by time as Mortals are. Its silver eyes wandered around the siblings, seeing if they had changed, though it knew that they would not have._

_With it was Space, lounging around and looking bored, golden eyes half closed and obviously wishing to be elsewhere. That was only to be expected, giving it's nature, however._

_Time's blue eyes were also half closed, but interest sparked within them. Time was a great being, and one who never showed its emotions, even in the most extreme conditions. It must be something to do with the fact that it controlled time, as Mortals know it – Fate reflected that you would need to have a great deal of patience to deal with that particular power, just as you did to deal with it's own power._

_And there was Death, with flat black eyes. Death was standing calmly, black robes shrouding much of its form, looking imposing, as it always attempted to do. Death had never managed to intimidate its siblings, but Mortals found it very imposing, as Fate well knew. All Mortal destinies would end up in Death's cold realms, and it pitied them for that. It would certainly not like to have to put up with the other being more often than it had to._

"_Can we spare the pleasantries?" Space demanded. Space was a lone power and was well known for it's dislike of the company of any and everything else in the known universe, including its siblings. "I have better things to do than sit around here." Such as watching supernova's occur and creating new planets, Fate thought to itself._

"_There is no time here," Time pointed out, "Our father, Destruction, saw that none of his children had any advantage over the others when they met with each other. You are missing nothing in your realm, and we are missing nothing in ours, for nothing happens in any of them while we remain here."_

_Space shrugged, as ever unrepentant. "Why are we here, Fate? You called our meeting, after all," Time enquired politely, drawing the siblings away from an argument, as so often occurred when they met up. They just didn't get along all that well. Fate and Time were friendly, but Death and Space held themselves apart, and neither of the other two felt any reason to try and mend that particular rift._

"_Because Death has taken something from me before it was time for that to happen," Fate replied, turning its silver eyes to its sibling. Although it did not show, Fate was furious. When it's siblings interfered with its business, it always was. They had no need to be interfering–it left them alone, why couldn't they return the favour?_

"_Do I really have to be here for this?" Space asked, obviously annoyed to be bothered by something that was none of his concern, as most things were. Its siblings were happy enough to leave it to its own devices, and it never troubled itself to inform them of what it was up._

"_We all must remain to make this decision," Fate replied, voice cold. "Let me explain what has happened. The mortal, Sirius Black, had not yet fulfilled his destiny, but Death took him away anyway. I _demand_ the return of this mortal to the realms of the living once more."_

"_The Mortal, Sirius Black, had reached the end of his allotted time to Live," Death rasped. "This is my decision and I have made it. I do not see why you must protest at this, Fate."_

"_His time had not yet come," Fate replied. "There has always been a delicate balance between light and dark, as my siblings will well know-"_

"_Light and Dark do not affect us, sibling, for we are neither. Light and Dark are only for Mortals to worry about," Space interrupted. _

"_Space, be silent if you have nothing productive to say, we all know what you speak of, there is no need to point it out for us again," Time told its sibling. "None of us have any wish to be here, it is uncomfortable for us all in the Meeting Place, and you are not going to achieve your aim, to get yourself, or any of us out of here, by interrupting constantly."_

"_Thank you, Time," Fate said. "I know that Light and Dark do not directly affect us, but at the same time they govern Mortal life. I know that this means little to my sibling, Space, but the rest of you will know what I mean when I say that balance in necessary. On Earth and on all other planets."_

"_We know," Time agreed. _

"_When the Balance has been tipped too far in either direction, someone must come to set it to rights and let it all begin again … Earth has reached such a time, and I have caused a Hero of the Light to be born, to upset the Darkness and restore the Balance that must envelope all living things," Fate said. "But Death has taken into its halls a key player in this. Harry Potter, my chosen Hero, needs someone he can love as a father or a brother. There were three people whose fate was to do this–Sirius Black, Lily Evans-Potter and James Potter. Lily and James Potter fulfilled their destiny in giving birth to the one who would set the Balance to rights, and when Death claimed them, I let my sibling do so, because I knew that Sirius Black would eventually be there for the Hero of the Light, though it was necessary for Sirius Black to be removed from Harry Potter's life for a time … that does not mean that his destiny was fulfilled when Death took him from life. In fact, it had only just begun."_

"_The Balance must be restored, whatever the cost." Time agreed slowly. "What must be done?"_

"_One of the three, or all of them, must return to life and help Harry Potter fulfil his destiny, and so complete theirs," Fate replied, voice utterly emotionless. It knew exactly what had to happen, persuading the others to do what was needed would be the hard thing._

"_I will not relinquish them all, they are mine, and rightfully so," Death hissed. "If my sibling, Fate, says that the Balance of Power has been disrupted and that I must give up my hold on one or more of those under my command, I reply thus: I will let only one leave my halls."_

"_Who will be chosen?" Time enquired._

"_Let the Mortals chose," Space yawned. "If it concerns them so."_

"_For once you have a good idea that doesn't revolve around you, Space. I'm impressed," Fate quipped._

"_I will call the Mortal, Harry Potter here, so that the decision might be made," Time stated, again diverting the attention of Fate and Space, who were always at odds with one another. An argument would not help them now. "But my sibling Death will have to call the other three, for I will not disturb his Realm."_

"_I will call them," Death hissed. Suddenly, in a flash of light, four figures appeared, tiny when compared the four figures of Power who stood around them._

"_What's happening?" asked the youngest, a boy with shocking black hair and emerald green eyes, he looked around and spotted the other Mortals who were with him. "Sirius? Mum? Dad?" he asked softly, looking around with emotions that played like a picture show across his face. Surprise, fear, pain and grief._

"_Harry!" a taller, black haired and grey eyed older man called out in greeting, going to step forward, then glancing up at the figures above them and pausing, not sure what to do._

"_My son," the red haired woman sobbed quietly, emerald eyes filling with tears of happiness. But she too stayed where she was, as unsure of herself as the two men in her company. She obviously wanted to go forward and embrace the son she had never known, but she did not, and would not, until the Powers had spoken and let them know what was going on. She recognised Death all too well, and it was not a good idea to anger him._

"_Our son," another man, an older version of Harry, whispered, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, the only real movement that any of them made. His blue eyes were fixed on Harry, however, not his wife._

"_What is this?" Harry asked, brows knotted in confusion._

"_This is a Council of Power," Fate intoned. "You have been called here because the Balance between Light and Dark has been disrupted. You, Harry Potter, have been given the destiny of evening out the Balance … but to do so, you need to have one of these three people at your side."_

"_I don't understand," Harry Potter said, looking first at the three adults, then up at the four Powers above him._

"_It was not your destiny to face the Dark alone. One or more of these three, a parental figure of some description, was to have been beside you at some point in your life to help guide your steps and teach you to love as you must be able to in order to fulfil your destiny, one of them was to be at your side in the final battle against the Dark," Fate continued._

_Harry shook his head slightly, obviously still not able to comprehend what was going on._

"_All of them have been taken by Death … in order to restore the Balance, Death has agreed that you might call for one of them to be removed from his realm to join you in the battle you will fight to restore the Balance," Time spoke up now. "But you may only choose one of them."_

"_How can I be expected to make a choice like that?" Harry demanded, anger taking the place of all the other emotions that had been so easy to see._

"_It does not matter how, only that you do so," Space drawled. "We are not concerned with a single Mortal's decisions … only with the continuation of the Balance."_

"_You will have some time to speak with your three possible choices, and then you will be requested to make the choice, so that we may all leave this place, as it is uncomfortable for all of us," Time informed him. "We will leave you for a moment, when we return, we will expect your answer."_

_Suddenly the four figures were gone. Harry blinked, "Sirius, mum, dad…" he whispered, and the three adults came forward to embrace him tightly. For a moment, he leant happily against their embraces, then he pulled back, looking each of them in the face. "I can't make this choice," he said, tears forming in his eyes._

"_You must make this choice," Lily said, stepping back and looking at her son. "Only one of us can return, and one of us must return. You have to choose which."_

"_How can I do that? You are my parents, but I can't bring both you back and Sirius, you're my godfather, how can I choose between you?" Harry demanded. "I love you all, I _need_ you all, but I can only have one of you."_

"_I will make it easier for you then; I do not want to return to the living world," Lily said, "Not without James – I don't want to live if I must live without my love, not even for you, my son, though I would do anything else. I would have lived, if I had not died that night, and taken care of you, but I would have longed for death to reunite us once more."_

"_I feel the same," James agreed. "As much as I would love to be with you, Harry, I do not want to live without my love … besides, we never knew you, we have no relationship with you, and I would not want to return and find that you and I don't get on well." He winked conspiratorially. _

"_I have no love to leave behind in the Realms of the Dead," Sirius said, "And while I would not wish to take Lily or James's place, had they wished to return, I would be honoured to be granted a second chance to know you, and teach you everything you need to know, about love or whatever else."_

_Harry's eyes stung with tears. "Then I suppose the choice is made. I will have to wait to know you until I die," he said to his parents sadly. "I wish it could have been otherwise."_

"_So do I, my love. No one wishes that more than I do," Lily said, "But it was not to be, and that is all that matters now. Time will pass and you will join us eventually."_

"_We don't want to be seeing either of you again too soon now, you hear?" James smiled at his son and his best friend. "Live well, my friend, my son, and know that we will watch over you, and hope for your success."_

"_Has the choice been made?" Time, Space, Fate and Death appeared again around them._

"_It has," Harry said, his voice faltering. Before he could change his mind, or think too much about what he was doing, he spoke again, voice chocked with emotion. "I choose Sirius Black." _

**Chapter One: Beginnings**

**Part One: The End **

Many years earlier, Myrtle, hiding in the U-Bend of her favourite toilet, was, as usual, crying. She wasn't entirely sure what she had been crying about any more, but it didn't really matter; her death was just as her life had been. Utterly miserable.

In the solitude of the toilet, Myrtle had found more peace than she had ever had before. It had proved a great advantage, being able to walk through walls and hide in places where no one would ever look for her: and lets face it – who would look in the U-Bend of an out of order toilet for someone to harass?

And so, it was understandable that she should be annoyed when someone came slamming into _her _bathroom, without so much as knocking to announce her presence. Even worse, Myrtle realised indignantly, whoever it was had the _gall _to be crying. That was Myrtle's job! She didn't want other people being miserable around her! If they were, she might have to do the unthinkable and attempt to comfort them. Not that anyone had ever bothered to comfort _Myrtle_ when she ran into toilets in tears. Nooo, they were all too good for that.

Well, be damned if she was going to go and find out who it was, or what was wrong. No, they could suffer as she had suffered. Without a comforting ear, someone to say that things would be alright … or possibly offer to go and sort out whoever it was that had upset her.

Yes, Myrtle smirked, forgetting that she had been making herself miserable about all the injustices of her life, It was a good plan. She stopped crying and instead pricked her ears to listen to whoever it was up in the bathroom itself.

It was definitely a girl. Myrtle could tell that from the sound of her sobs. Myrtle was waiting for the inevitable wails of injustice to begin. She well remembered the times that she had stood in that very bathroom, in fact, in the very cubicle above her, and ranted and wailed about her tormentors. Just thinking about it was enough to bring a tear of misery to her ghostly eye.

But she had more interesting things to do than to dwell on bygone miseries. She was curious, because the girl above seemed to be sobbing as though her heart was breaking. Maybe she hadn't been tormented as Myrtle had. Then she had it; the girl was nursing a broken heart. She remembered the time that she had been in here, sobbing her heart out over Tom Riddle. He had been the most handsome guy in school, for all he was several years above Myrtle herself, but she hadn't been the only girl in her year besotted by the king of Slytherin.

She well remembered the day; It was nearly Christmas, and there was going to be a ball. Myrtle had been feeling somewhat buoyant, unusually for her, after a lesson of Cheering Charms. She had seen Tom in the hallways, talking with some girl from his year, and, before she could stop herself, she had asked if he would take her to the dance.

She would never forget, in life or in death, the look that he had given her then. It was the sort of expression one might wear, turning over a rock and finding something slimy and disgusting underneath. He was looking at her as though she was something repulsive, too far beneath him to even bother with an answer.

Oh, how she wished that he had never actually answered her. But he had.

"What?" he sneered, his cultured, haunting voice cutting through her cheer like a knife. "Go to a _Ball_ with _you? _Why in the world would I want to do that?" he had laughed then, a cold, cutting laugh that held no humour. "I don't think so. No, I will go with someone who is, for a start, my _age_, and, more importantly, an attractive somebody, not an ugly little nobody."

He had turned his back on her then, and offered his arm to the attractive female who was with him, and together they had walked off, laughing coldly. She had spent the next two days locked in the bathroom, not that anyone had actually noticed her missing … except perhaps Professor Sprout, her head of house.

Myrtle pulled herself from the reverie. She was interested now. She wanted to know what the girl was crying about, whom the heart-throb she'd made a fool of herself over was.

She floated up through the toilet and emerged into the cubicle, drifting through the closed door and into the bathroom proper. In a corner, near the sinks, a red haired girl was curled into a ball, her face buried in her hands and pressed hard against her knees, rocking gently back and forth as she sobbed.

"What are _you _crying about?" Myrtle demanded accusingly.

The girl shrieked in surprise, and lifted her tear-streaked face. Myrtle felt a brief moment of triumph for startling the girl, but it vanished as she took in the face that looked at her.

_This_ girl would have never been turned by a handsome boy. She had a stunning face, porcelain perfect skin, delicately sculptured features, flawlessly shaped eyes and lovely, full red lips. Her lush red hair tumbled around her shoulders in attractive disarray, and she even managed to pull off the image of perfection with her face blotched by tears.

No, _this _girl was the type to coolly accept the jealousies of other females and the adoration of the entire male populace. Myrtle was starting think that she should leave the girl to her misery; she had probably broken more hearts than anyone else in the entire school, she deserved some heartache of her own.

But it was too late now, the girl had seen her. But rather than sneering at Myrtle, the moment she was over her surprise, she started sobbing again. "It's awful," she choked out.

"What is?" Myrtle asked, intrigued despite herself.

"She's gone!" the girl wailed.

"She?" Myrtle asked, wondering, fleetingly, if the girl was a lesbian. It _would_ figure.

"Grace," she whispered, emerald eyes overflowing with grief. "Dumbledore just told me... she died this morning."

Myrtle had _not _been prepared for this. Wails at the injustices of being a lesbian, maybe, but someone dying? Really, she thought, it wasn't very nice to say something like that to someone who was already dead, but Myrtle decided to forego the pleasure of pointing out this fact and making the girl uncomfortable.

"Grace?"

"Grace Malfoy," she whispered. "She was one of my friends, from Ravenclaw. She'd been sick, but none of us ever realised that she was _this _sick. We never thought that it might be fatal … she was only seventeen." Now Myrtle was struggling not point out that she had been only thirteen when she had died. "Well, nearly … it's her birthday tomorrow … would have been her birthday." She started crying again.

Myrtle was now at a complete loss. What was she supposed to do now? She hadn't ever had much experience with comfort, either giving or receiving. Outside the door, a gaggle of girlish voices could suddenly be heard.

"That's my friends," the girl said softly. "Thanks for listening … I'm Lily …"

"Myrtle," she said slowly. "I'm usually here … if someone hasn't flushed me into the lake, anyway … if you want to come back some time," she added the last almost shyly. Lily nodded slightly and then hurried out of the bathroom to join a large group of friends.

Although she couldn't help but feel slightly jealous that Lily had an entire group of friends when she, Myrtle, had had none at all, Myrtle couldn't help but give something that almost resembled a smile as she thought of Lily's little nod before she left.

The room was made of pale stone, and each of the wide windows, which covered the eastern wall, looked out over the forest. The sky outside was pale, and rain fell slowly from the sky.

The windows themselves were tall and arched in shape. Each was draped with a border of white roses. Similar roses also sat in huge arrangements at the head of the long room and surrounded the enlarged photo of Grace, which was smiling and laughing silently from its frame.

She had to be strong.

Lily took a deep breath, holding it inside and counting to three before slowly letting it go. She couldn't cry, not now. She looked down at her hands, which were clasping the hanky she was holding so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. It hadn't been real until now, it had just seemed like a long surreal dream, the last week, where she just waited for Grace to jump out from behind a doorway or bush and yell, "Surprise Lily!" and let out that tinkling laugh.

But now it was final. This morning had been Grace's funeral, but only family and purebloods with connection to Grace had been invited.

She was now sitting in one of the spare classrooms at Hogwarts. It had been scrubbed clean and set out with chairs facing a raised dais.

She was at Grace's memorial service, held at Hogwarts for those who needed to say goodbye. She looked out over the people; each tear stained or bereft face. He gaze swept across the room and Lily took another deep breath, trying in vain to find the strength to stand in a moment when she was called and read the short words that had poured from her heart onto the paper.

Gideon Prewett was barely holding himself together. He had been crying when he had arrived back at school with his older brother and sister, both of whom had already graduated, but he had found the strength to speak to Lily for a moment and tell her that the funeral had been beautiful. He had been betrothed to Grace since her birth when he was barely eight months old, and Lily knew he had truly loved the girl.

_"I mean, he tries to make me think he's indifferent to our marriage, but I see the way he looks at me," Grace had smiled and looked up at Lily, "I envy you your romance and mystery. Your whole life is an open book; your choices will be yours. I mean, I love Gideon, but he wasn't my choice, you know?"_

Lily had laughed and replied that Gideon was quite the catch. But now, looking upon Gideon's truly heartbroken face, flanked on each side by a sibling, each offering him strength, she had to admit. Gideon would have done everything in his power to make Grace's life wonderful. His older sister Molly, who was married with a two young children and a baby of her own, was stroking his hand and whispering to him.

Lily sat next to them and behind that the room was full to capacity. Grace had spread love and joy wherever she had gone… and this was clearly evident in the people crammed around the edges of the room, standing, as there were no seats left.

Dumbledore's words were not registering as he led the group into the memorial service. She could hear him speaking but she couldn't make her mind understand. She vaguely recognised the syllables of her name and stood. Carefully she walked up onto the stage. From her higher vantage point she could see to the far corners of the room and the extent of just how many students had tried to fit in.

Lily's green eyes widened. Severus Snape had come, even when he had sneered to her this morning that he wouldn't have the time. He stood now in the shadows at the back of the room. His head low, his eyes darting about, then settling on the photo of Grace. Lily still to this day didn't understand why Grace had _forced_ Severus to become her friend.

She had first arrived in the Great Hall from the library one Monday evening, amidst a thunderstorm, to inform the other girls at dinner that she had met a new study partner. She had stood there, her hands on her hips, blue and bronze scarf around her shoulders, and a triumphant look in her eyes as she declared him the "cleverest boy she'd ever studied with". They had been intrigued, each girl confiding in another who they all thought the partner could be. A few guessed Sirius Black, a seventh year boy with a reputation for the ladies. But none could have predicted him to be Snape; an unpopular, not handsome at all, unfriendly, _Slytherin. _Most of the girls in the group had been appalled. Being all from Gryffindor or Ravenclaw.

And the way he had treated her in those first few weeks! Stories had gotten back to the girls, of the way he would ignore and sneer insults at Grace when she joyfully sank down at his table in the library, spread her books and quills and other random girly crap from one end of the table to the other, and began quietly chattering away about her day.

It might have been the long blonde hair that hung to the middle of her back, curling slightly at the ends, or it might have been the never ending chatter, but he had, at first, taken her to be an idiot. Grace had confided this to Lily delightedly, when all the other girls had decided that if they didn't hear about Snape he didn't exist. He had been proven incredibly wrong in his opinion, however, when one day she had pointed out an intricate error in a transfiguration essay he was writing. She'd never be called a brain, but she got by. Transfiguration, however, was the one subject Grace excelled at. It was "her thing". This moment had given way to tolerating the chatter and questioning of Grace, and eventually even conversing with the girl.

Only when she was alone.

Lily had once sat next to Grace in the library, and had happened to look up when Severus had entered the torch-lit room. She'd seen the shutter fall across his eyes and had smirked at him in triumph of putting him out by sitting with her friend. The day beside the lake, over a year previous, was in Lily's opinion was _clearly _unforgiven. He had after all called her a _mudblood_. She had only defended the damn boy when she had seen Grace pale and her eyes fill with tears when James Potter and the others had begun to tease him. This time she would win.

But he has simply turned on his heel and sat elsewhere… bending low over an essay and never glancing towards the girls. After about an hour, Lily had gathered her things, and on her way to the door remembered a book she had wanted to borrow, making her way to the stacks on the far side of the library. She had been re-emerging when she had seen Grace walk over to Severus' table, placing her bag next to his and complaining loudly about her Potions homework.

Lily had been about to storm over and tell Severus to stay the hell away from her friend when she had stopped in her tracks. Severus Snape smiled. Not sneer, smirk or grimace. He gave a sort of lopsided slash of his mouth and dragged Grace's parchment close to go over it, then they fell into a deep discussion. Severus Snape was counted amongst Graces best friends, and had been for over two years now, much to the chagrin of the group of girls. As much as she hated Snape herself, Lily had defended the relationship within their group till the end. Though never within ear shot of Snape himself.

But now wasn't the time for past digressions. Now he looked truly sad. His pale skin seemed to be devoid of all colour and purplish shadows deepened his black eyes. His mouth was a grim line and his hands were tightly screwed around a piece of violet paper. Lily recognised it to be one of the envelopes from Graces personal stationary.

She reached the podium a white marble column in Roman style with a glass top, and looked out over the group. It was a sea of broken faces. Tears fell and her eyes swam, making the room blur and sway. _"Lily, get it together, you can do this," _she berated herself.

"Once in a lifetime anyone who is truly blessed will get the opportunity to meet someone who truly sparkles. Grace was someone who lights up the room simply by walking in to it. Who made the storm clouds vanish with a smile, whose voice made the world make a little more special. Someone I could call my best friend. I feel so honoured to be able to say that, for she truly was a blessing. She made my life white instead of grey. She made the little things magnificent and the dark times a shared load.

I'm thankful. I'm thankful for her kindness, I'm thankful for her laugh. I'm thankful for the times we would stay up late and talk about everything in our lives. I'm thankful that she shared that with me."

Lily looked up from where her eyes were barely making out the scrawl she had jotted on the paper last night in bed through her tears, and saw at once that Gideon was hunched forward over his knees, sobbing silently, while Molly and Fabian comforted him as best they could. Next to him the other girls from the group were all holding hands, looking up at Lily, silently offering their strength, except poor Arianna, who was sobbing into her boyfriends arm. Lovegood, the Ravenclaw boy in question, looked down at her petting her hair and whispering.

Three sets of eyes caught hers in that brief moment. One broken and desolate, one comforting and soft, the other blazing with some unchecked emotion, leaving her with the impression he would come to her if she gave him the slightest sign. The three kings of Gryffindor were standing leaning against the wall opposite to the windows. Sirius, James and Remus. Their little sidekick wasn't anywhere to be seen.

Each wore their black school robes over a clean uniform, out of respect for Grace, and Lily nodded to them each in turn before looking back down at her paper, feeling somewhat empowered.

"She touched everyone who met her in a different way, and I will miss that, always."

She folded the page and put it in her pocket, then left the stage.

**Part Two: When it all falls apart.**

A seventeen year-old Severus Snape stood there, trying to pretend to himself that he was okay and knowing in the back of his mind that it was futile, the tiny pillars of happiness he had allowed into his heart were shattering like spun glass. Grace Malfoy, was gone. His parents were gone, not that the loss of his father was a hardship. Now he had lost Grace. She was annoying, persistent, and goddamn, she could chatter about absolutely nothing for _hours_. She was the best friend he had ever been forced to have. And he had lost her.

Her portrait on the front podium grinned at him. He had to get the hell out.

In that moment he didn't think anyone else could understand Lily's words like he could. He pushed his way through the crowds, the last of Lily's words tearing his heart right out of his chest.

Damn it, could fate be this cruel? Hell, she was the only person who had given enough of a damn about him in this school, and even the world, to tear down his boundaries and get to know him. With her he had experienced what it was to have a friend. She only had to smile at him to make his day.

_"Hmm… ok… prettiest girls at Hogwarts?" Grace smiled impishly as she drew a heart in his potions textbook with a flourish, next to where she had written her name. They had been outside, one of the few times they had gone out at night, laying in squishy sleeping bags by the lake, studying by candlelight._

_Severus had sighed deeply, closing his eyes and cursing under his breath playfully, "Why do you proceed with these pointless questions Grace?"_

_She petted the top of his head and grinned "Why do you proceed to answer them? We have a pact to never tell until we're dead – so answer the question."_

_"Oh Merlin. Fine. Either you…"_

_Grace lit up, "Aww… y'think I'm pretty?"_

_"You know you are. Either you, the Black sisters, umm Lily Evans or Sophie Wexton.."_

_Grace paused a moment and looked supremely pleased with herself. Damn, he thought for a second he'd gotten away with it. "Lily Evans… well well well," _

He broke into a run tearing through the halls of Hogwarts as fast as he could his mind racing and his heart pounding, and found himself heading for the library and before he could stop it, the thought that maybe she would be there formed. He stopped running and slammed his fist into the wall on a broken scream, crumpling and leaning on the wall, before sliding down it.

_He had stood all alone in the headmasters office, expecting to have to go through this all alone. His father, in a drunken rage had killed his mother, finally. Beaten her to death, then killed himself. The headmaster had tried to soften the blow, but Severus had known, had gotten the drift._

_"Severus, are you sure, there's really no one? Your mother's funeral is not an ordeal you should undertake alone."_

_Severus had avoided eye contact with the headmaster. He was starting his seventh year, and had no close friends, and now, no family. But he swore he wouldn't cry._

_"There's no one headmaster. When do I leave?"_

_There had been a knock at the door then, before Severus had gotten his answer, and she had been there, having heard about the situation from the Head Girl. He had forgotten - he had a friend. Grace had simply walked to his side, scanned his face intently for a moment then taken his hand. Her hand had stayed in his all the way through the burial, though they stood in the rain._

He lifted his fists to his forehead, only then noticing he had cut his hand open when he had struck the wall. Blood pooled in dirty streaks across his clenched fist. Then he remembered the letter. It had been on his pillow when he had gone to his room last night, and he just not been able to open it. He looked at it now. Crumpled, slightly dirty with a faint blood smear on the corner, but unmistakeably it was Graces stationary, and her hand across the front spelling out his name.

He flipped it open and pulled out a page of lilac paper and as he read the short message, his heart leapt into his throat.

_'Dearest Severus,_

_I have no time to explain fully now, but I swear to you I'm not dead. My illness has reached my heart, and I fear I have no more time than just a few days. They have decided to put me under some sort of suspended animation until there is a cure, however long that takes. Sev, I'm so scared. I beg you, please find the cure. I have faith in you, my potions prince, you, along with Lily Evans are the best and cleverest friends of my heart._

_Save me_

_Grace' _

"She seems to believe you are her greatest hope." The voice washed over him like water, stealing his breath and brushing a tender chill down his spine.

Before him stood, in all his supercilious glory, the heir to the Malfoy fortune and older brother to his best friend, apparently his very alive best friend, Lucius Malfoy. He was dressed in finely cut black robes, his sheet of white blonde hair held back by a black velvet ribbon.

He knelt down to Severus's level, and looked him dead in the eye. "Snape, you have more talent than any other student before you, according to Slughorn. If you had the power to save her, if I could get you the power to do whatever you heart pleased, the world pure and at your feet, for her, would you take a chance?"

Severus saw something almost scary in the other mans eyes, but the words left a trickle of interest in his mind. He stood and nodded, and followed the other boy towards the dungeons of Hogwarts.

** Part Three: Sins of the son**

He sat, staring at the fire in front of him. The last of the suns rays had moved across the pale stone walls of his room, then faded away in splendid sunset, but his eyes never left the fire, trained on the flickering light. The sun had set, night was falling, and Draco Malfoy was dreading the long dark ahead. A night like all the others, when the sins of his past would haunt the small amount of sleep he did get, images of the atrocities he had witnessed, caused, and even committed in the name of a madman, whose cause was not his own. And all the gain the favour of his father, whose dedication to said madman, the Dark Lord, bordered on the obsessive.

It seemed so insignificant from hindsight, that Draco fought his whole life to emulate such a father, and deny himself even the smallest amount of individuality. For twenty-one years now he'd been someone else. It was all a load of crap. Legilimency at this stage might be the only one thing keeping him alive. For sure if the Dark Lord had seen his current thoughts he'd be put to excruciating death. Hell, with the thoughts he was having of late… he should have killed _himself _ by rights for loving…

But he questioned it all now. Everything he was taught, everything he belived.

Draco lifted the glass of fire whiskey to his lips and took a mouthful, rolling it over his tongue. It burned a fiery trail down his throat, and he savoured the sensation. It was better than dwelling on the situation he now found himself shackled to.

What had happened that night? When Dumbledore had spoken to him, offered him redemption, it was as though every weight he had imposed upon himself was lifted, and he had opened his mouth to accept the offer when Severus had arrived. The goddamned pact with his mother had forced Severus to do the deed Draco could not. Dumbledore had been killed. Because of _him_.

He had managed; through the dropping of a lot of galleons and through some of the surprisingly few connections the Dark Lord had left in the ministry, to maintain his freedom. A signed testimony from Severus Snape that he had acted on his own to kill Dumbledore had been important in his defence. But it had not been enough. Then there was the most surprising testimony of all… Harry Potter had arrived, using a complex spell to bring the witness of Moaning Myrtle. Between the two of them Draco had found himself free. Heavily fined and a "tainted" person, but free.

His final year of school had been hell. The animosity of most of the school towards him, for what he was accused of and for what he had nearly done. He had learned fast not to leave the dungeons after dark. Slytherin had hailed him a hero, which seemed the greatest travesty of all. He eventually just kept his head down and went about his business.

To top it all off he had never seen Potter again. He didn't return to Hogwarts, in fact none of the golden trio had stayed on at school. Though Weasel and Granger had arrived on the day of the first NEWTS, taking the tests alongside the rest of their once classmates, and staying in the nearby town, but not staying on the grounds.

He had rebuilt his fathers vast Malfoy Empire Corporation after school. Now stable and practically running itself he was forced to realise the truth. He had thrown himself into the business not because it was floundering; it hadn't been in the slightest. He buried himself in the numbers, calculations and screwing whatever blonde was his current secretary. He had been trying to work off the remorse. He felt… guilty.

So he attended the appropriate meetings, went to all the right parties. Became his father's perfect son and wore the Dark Lords white skull mask. He avoided being alone in public and allowed Pansy to flirt with him and occasionally gave her a good shag. He acted for the entire world to see like he was perfectly happy, but inside… inside he was caught, dying. He hated the way he treated life and took what he wanted.

But for now he sat, night after night, watching the flames, wishing for that moment back, when he had almost been allowed freedom and redemption. To be his own self… Wishing for – wishing for the chance to have _her_. Love her. Her…

**Part Four: Here cometh the Night**

The sun was setting over the hills painting the sky in hues of gold, pink, orange and yellow as Nyxia stood on the balcony outside her bedroom waiting. She had an air of solemnity, her dark eyes betraying none of the true emotion that she felt, her face like a mask of calm to hide the turbulent beating of her heart. Like the night she was named for, she knew people said she was secretive and solitary. Only a handful of people that she counted a friend knew her true self, and she frankly liked it that way.

A few tendrils of her long, jet-black hair was lifted up by a rogue breeze to be blown about before drifting gently back down to rest. She drew her midnight blue robes closer to her body as another breeze whispered by sending goose bumps rising on her skin.

"Uh, miss?"

She turned to look at the house elf cowering at her feet, "What?" she asked her voice soft, speaking her native tongue, Russian.

"The master, he asks for you."

Without another word Nyxia through her room and headed straight for her grandfather in the east wing. It was only a few short months ago that her grandmother had taken sick and died and now it was her grandfather who now lay upon his deathbed. She arrived in a swirl of heavy silk and sat down on the stool next to her grandfather's bed. Gently she reached to take his hand in her own.

"I'm here Grandfather."

He opened his eyes and peered at her for a moment.

"Ah, Nyxia, my darling grand-daughter. I have something very important to tell you," his voice raspy and a bit hard to follow, "I am sorry we couldn't find him, we tried very hard so that you two could grow up in a proper household together. So many secrets…"

"Find who?" Nyxia asked, thinking that perhaps the old man was starting to lose his marbles.

"What do you mean who? Your twin brother of course, that's who." Her grandfather muttered, "We managed to find you alright, but we suspected that maybe your brother was taken out of the country because we could never find him. Not that the Ministry was any great help. Stupid idiots should never have tried to take you away from your rightful family."

As he rambled on Nyxia just stared at him in shock. She had a brother! Her mind was frozen unable to form any other coherent thought beyond the fact that she had a twin brother.

"Your poor parents were heartbroken when they took the pair of you away, didn't even give them a chance to hold either you before they whisked you both away to be put up for adoption." Her grandfather had continued talking, he now gave her hand a pat, "My Nyxia, I'm sorry that we had to lie to you, but your parents aren't dead. They are very much alive and well last I heard."

Nyxia's carefully placed mask of indifference cracked revealing a flash of confusion, sorrow and hope, "What?" she whispered.

"Are you deaf girl? I said your parents are alive, not dead." He took a deep, shuddering breath, "Ah my poor sons, locked away in that cursed prison. That's why you and your brother were put up for adoption, you were born in Azkaban, but since your parents were considered criminals, the Ministry wouldn't let them keep either of you. But if they were stupid enough to get caught with the Dark Lord then it is their own fault," the old man heaved a sigh, "I just wish they had chosen a different way to express their opinions instead of following some stupid power hungry idiot. I am proud that my son stood up for his beliefs though. He managed to do this family proud."

"Grandfather," Nyxia said slowly and carefully least her voice should crack and unleash a torrent of emotions, "What are their names?"

He look at her as though she were stupid, "Haven't you been told?" he asked.

"No Grandfather, I was never told my parents name, I have only seen a photo of them that you and Grandmother showed me once when I was younger." Nyxia replied keeping an iron grip on her emotions.

"Ah, yes, we never told you because we didn't want you to be hurt by the mindless dribble of others…" he started to cough, each breath a struggle to draw.

Nyxia calmly picked up the goblet of water that was on the bedside table and handed it to her grandfather. Although she was outwardly calm and unruffled, inside panic was staining on all her bounds, threatening to spill over. The old man could not die before he told her the names of her parents! He just couldn't! Eventually her grandfather stopped coughing and took a sip of water before handing the goblet back. His breathing was very shallow as he sunk back into the bed and his voice, when he spoke, was raspier then before.

"Your father's name is Rudolphus and your mother is Bellatrix. They are no longer in prison, they live somewhere in Britain, fugitives. But I don't want you to go there to find them. Not after all we went through too keep you away from their life, to not let you be tainted by their reputation. If you go to Britain, search for your brother, let him know about his real family, his true heritage. Start at the Ministry in London, your mother named him Phineas, but no doubt he has a different name now." another short cough, "where you are the night, dear girl, he is the day. Find him, he is family."

Just as the full moon rose over the hills he took one last rattling gasp before releasing it with a sigh. Nyxia waited for the next breath, but it never came. A high-pitched wail sounded beside her, she turned to find a house elf wailing its heart out on the floor. She hadn't even realised that it was there.

For a few long moments she struggled with her own emotions, stopping them from surfacing, but the wailing of the stupid elf was not helping.

"Quiet you!" she snapped at it, though not unkindly, the elf i _had /i _been with her Grandfather its whole life.

Instantly the house elf fell quiet allowing only a few sniffles to escape. Nyxia turned back to the problem at hand. Still struggling with her emotions she started to snap out orders.

"I want funeral preparations made immediately," She stood to her full height, which was quite tall, and straightened her silky robes, "I also want preparations made for me to travel. After the funeral I am going to Britain. Now go!"

After the house elf fled to obey her orders Nyxia turned and slowly drew the black velvet comforter up over her beloved Grandfathers face with respect and dignity, then turned and left the room, walking through he dark halls. She carefully entered her room, closed the door, then leant heavily against it with a gulping sob, and crumpled to the floor. Crying as though her heart was broken.

A soft cracking sound from her fireplace drew her attention, and she turned, brushing the back of her hand over her eyes. Two boys entered her room, and as their eyes adjusted to the half-light they saw her and the larger of the two said her name, softly. "Nyx…"

The second boy, slightly taller but finely built moved swiftly to her side, sweeping her into a hug and holding her tightly as she indulged in a rare moment of release. She tended to keep her emotions to herself, and both boys were glad she was mourning. The first boy, whose name was Viktor, walked over to the others and rested a hand on Nyx's shoulder, a silent way of saying that he was there for her.

For a long time he stood vigil over her as she cried in to their friends shoulder, never saying a word, never moving. Just standing and watching as she emptied her heart in the night. Finally she fell asleep from exhaustion and Viktor picked her up and carried her to her bed, where he tucked her in and moved to sit opposite the other boy in the lounge. Both boys giving each other an understanding look before settling in. They would watch over her. Nothing would be said tomorrow morning about her emotional indulgence, her mask would be repaired and back in place by the time she woke up.

**Part Five: Redefining the Living**

Harry Potter was lying flat on his back on the roof of his apartment building; overhead the serene moon sailed through the star-strewn sky. Harry's eyes watched the moon, as they had for some time now, tracking it as it followed on its path. The cycle of the moon was never ending, and had been going on since as long as man could remember. It was soothing, watching something so dependable.

He looked away from the moon and out at the sky, automatically naming the constellations as his eyes passed over them, remembering his Astronomy lessons at Hogwarts, all of his thoughts pausing for a moment as he reached the constellation Canis Major, and the star Sirius.

Sirius, Harry's godfather. Was he watching, from that star that Harry was now looking at, the star that he had been named for? If he was, what did he see? Did he see is godson, the son of his best friend, and a child that he adored, or did he see the boy who had led him to his death. Did he blame Harry? Or did he forgive him? Even if Sirius _did _forgive him-and he had no way of knowing if he had or not-could Harry forgive himself?

He had been twenty-one for exactly, he looked at his watch, eleven minutes. He turned his eyes from timepiece to the stars once more.

Harry knew that he had not forgiven himself yet, not for what happened to his parents, or Sirius, or Dumbledore, but who knew what would happen in the future? He had to come to grips with losing them, but the wound was still there, unhealed, and Harry wondered if it ever would truly be healed. Another thing that only time would be able to tell him.

Suddenly there was a flash of white and Harry followed the shooting star across the sky, remembering an old Muggle tradition; that if you wished upon a falling star, that wish would come true. A smile formed at his lips, and he whispered, so softly that he almost couldn't hear himself, "I wish that I could be normal, plain, and still happy. I wish this were all finally _over…_"

He shook his head slightly at the folly of his thoughts, but he couldn't help it. He was so tired of being sad and angry at the situation, while trying to find happiness in his life, but it all seemed so unattainable, only a miracle could bring it to him now. Would a miracle be forthcoming? _Something else I'll have to wait and find out_ he decided, smiling faintly.

With that, Harry rose to his feet, figuring that since it was around one in the morning that he should probably get to sleep. In his room, he pulled back the sheets and slipped into the bed, wishing as always that he had Ginny. But she would never be his, not till it was over. He would never let happen to her what had happened to his mother. Until Voldemort was dealt with, he was doomed to be alone. Almost the moment he slipped into the bed, his eyes closed and he sank into the soothing depths of a very deep sleep. He dreamt of massive beings of power, of his parents and Sirius, and of a **choice**.

The next morning Harry opened his startlingly green eyes and stretched, pushing himself into a sitting position. He smiled faintly as he looked around his room, remembering his dream. Nothing had changed, but everything seemed different. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was out of place. Almost like he had felt in the Dursley's house.

Harry shook his head. It was nice to have a new, soft mattress to sleep on, and a proper, warm quilt to sleep under, as well as new sheets, in comparison to his terrible old room at the Dursleys. His apartment overlooked one of the side streets off Diagon Alley, and was convenient to everything he needed.

It didn't seem all that weird that he was dreaming about Sirius being brought back to life, though he wasn't sure why he was dreaming of having to choose between Sirius and his parents. The summer of his sixth year he had had dreams to the point of Cedric Diggory being alive after all, although he had also had plenty of dreams about the graveyard and Cedric dying … but this one had seemed so _real_. Somehow, he almost found himself believing that it could be.

He passed into his living room, tying the cord on his white drawstring pants, and wearing nothing else. On his counter was a pile of his mail from yesterday. One of the letters from his friends had put a very sour note in Harry's life. Ron and Hermione were now officially broken up – Ron had pissed Hermione completely off with his "prattish behaviour". The fact he was sleeping with someone else, Hermione suspected it was Lavender Brown again, had been a undertone of annoyance in the letter.

That was just great. Harry didn't know all that much about love and after his experience with Cho Chang and Ginny, he wasn't sure that he _wanted _to have anything to do with it. From what he did know, however, from observing others, was that Hermione and Ron were about to get VERY volatile. Great. Just great.

Besides, it was more than likely that they would both want him to side with them, and ignore the other. How could he choose between Ron and Hermione? They were both his friends, but from what he had experienced of their previous arguments, neither of them would want to spend time with other until they got over it. Then again if Ron really was cheating on Hermione…

Harry sighed and got dressed in his Auror robes. He didn't really want to go to work today. He was good at his job, but with the war and the pressure placed upon him to defeat Voldemort, it all seemed to be a weight on his shoulders lately.

Ron was with him in the Auror department. He wasn't very good, Harry lamented to say, mediocre at best, but his passion and dedication to the work more than made up for anything he lacked skills-wise.

Harry just wanted to escape from his life. He wished that his dream of the night before could come true, and Sirius _could_ return to help him out here. He didn't have to like it at all, and he didn't.

Harry left his apartment, locking the door, and grabbed coffee from the shop on his way to the Ministry. Hermione worked there in the research division, and he thought perhaps he should go see her, make sure she was ok, so he grabbed an apple cinnamon muffin too. As he was paying he felt the presence of someone behind him.

"Hello Harry," a soft, _almost _familiar voice said. Harry started and looked up. Standing before him was a young man, probably around Harry's age, with longish black hair and grey eyes. Harry stared at the boy for a moment, wondering what in the world was going on. Finally, he could come up with only two explanations. One was too out-there to be considered, so he went with the other.

"Tonks, if this is your idea of a joke, it's _not_ funny," Harry said harshly. He liked Tonks, but this was going _too _far. Way too far.

"Tonks? Who's that?" a young Sirius Black asked.

**REVIEW!**

Like it? Love it? Hate it? Let me know :) Also, I'm looking for a brainstorming partner in the story… if you're interested review me and let me know :P – **_Princess _**


	2. Chapter 2: Dancing around the Topic

Chapter Two: Dancing around the Topic

The sun was setting, and Harry's voice was growing hoarse. He was sitting on his sofa, and the other twenty-one year old looking boy was draped over a chair in front of him, resting his chin on the back of it, just listening, head cocked to one side, almost canine-like. "So … that's the story of my life," Harry said with a slight shrug.

"I died," the other boy remarked, rather calmly, ruffling a hand through his too-long hair. "I suppose I knew I had … but that's weird. Bella killed me – well, she was always was a crazy bitch. So, why did you get landed in that Duzley joint? Didn't your parents want to take you?"

"My parents?" Harry asked, somewhat confused. "They died when I was one, remember."

The other blushed slightly, he had gotten quite upset to learn of James' passing, then spent twenty minutes in the bathroom, apparently to get whatever it was that was making his eyes water, out. "Sorry – you look so like James it's hard … Mr. and Mrs. Potter, James's parents. Didn't they want to take you?"

"I never knew them," Harry said, "I suppose they're dead. No one's ever told me about them before."

The boy looked down, "Sorry," he muttered. "What about my family? Regulus – what did the little snot end up doing?"

"Uh – he's dead," Harry said, "He was killed by Death Eaters," he didn't mention that Regulus had been one of the Death Eaters, he didn't think that Sirius would want to know that. Because it _was_ Sirius. Harry was sure of it – after the dream last night this _had_ to be Sirius. It all fit, after all.

Sirius looked close to sad over that, but shrugged slightly, "My mum?"

"Dead."

"My dad?"

"Dead."

"So I'm free of those _people_," Sirius remarked bitterly. "I don't know what to feel about that …"

"You really didn't like them, did you?" Harry asked.

"No," Sirius replied, "I _hated_ them, with their stupid pure-blood fanaticism and their idiotic traditions. But I should be sad that they're gone."

"If you aren't, then that's ok," Harry shrugged.

"OK. So the Potter's are dead, my family is dead … who else is dead? For that matter – who was your mother?"

"Lily Potter," Harry replied.

"Lily _Evans_?" Sirius asked, and Harry nodded. "Good lord! James got laid! She was a _spunk_."

"That's my mother you're talking about," Harry pointed out, and Sirius descended into laughter.

"James got laid several times! I mean, my mind feels like its got pieces missing, but I think I already knew that. They were together in seventh year… Screw that – James got _hitched!_"

Sirius's laughter was infectious, and it didn't take long for the both of them to end up on the floor, howling with laughter, although Harry had already forgotten what was funny. After awhile they calmed down and returned to their seats. "So, what happened to Andromeda? She was the only one of the pack that wasn't rotten."

"She married a Muggle called Ted Tonks," Harry replied.

"Go her!" Sirius said with a grin. "Let me guess – she got blasted from the tapestry?"

"Of course," Harry smiled back. "They have a daughter named Nymphadora," Sirius exploded into giggles, "But if you call anything but Tonks she'll curse you. She's an Auror."

"So do I look like this Ted Tonks guy?" Sirius asked.

"I've never met him – why do you ask?"

"Because you thought I was 'Tonks'," Sirius said.

"Nymphadora is a Metamorphmagus, I thought she was playing some sort of joke by pretending to me," Harry said uncomfortably, and Sirius nodded his understanding.

"So she's like me? What happened to Remus and Peter then?"

"When Voldemort was after my parents, they went into hiding. They performed some charm that included a Secret Keeper," Harry said.

"Was that me?" Sirius asked.

"It was going to be. You changed to Peter at the last minute," Harry replied, bitterly.

"That wasn't such a good move, was it?" Sirius asked, the laughter dying from his face, as though he was thinking really hard, trying to remember.

"No. A week after you performed the spell, he betrayed them to Voldemort, who killed them. You tried to kill him and landed up in Azkaban for twelve years," Harry finished the story.

"The bastard! I'll _kill_ him!"

"You tried, failed and ended up in Azkaban," Harry pointed out, as Sirius got up and started pacing up and down the small room, face murderous. Suddenly, he calmed with a frightening speed and turned back to Harry.

"What about Remus? Is he still alive?"

"Yes," Harry reassured him, "Remus is alive and well … or he was the last time I saw him – he's quite happy at the moment, of course, he's getting married."

"WHAT? Wow, I half expected you to tell me he had kids too already, but just getting married now? To who?" Sirius said in delight.

"Tonks" Harry beamed back.

"That is far too awesome for words." Sirius said with a nod. "Well, I think that's most of the important people and questions out of the way … oh god, James got hitched!"

"Yes, and had me," Harry said, shaking his head.

"So, what about you? You've told me the basics. Did you rule Hogwarts, which is your heritage?"

Harry smiled, "I'm not James, Sirius. No, I don't rule Hogwarts. Before I came to Hogwarts, I had never had a friend in my life that I could remember. I have two good friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and a group called DA which we formed fifth year-"

"Because of that Umbridge woman," Sirius nodded, because Harry had mentioned her before when he was telling Sirius about the night that he died. "So, you have a group – that's a start. So, what do we do now?"

Harry thought about this, "Write to McGonnagal," he said, standing up and heading over to his desk, starting slightly when the clock read 9:00 pm. He had sent a note to work earlier explaining his absence as the flu.

He wrote a brief, and somewhat confusing; not that it could be any other way, letter to his teacher and sent it off with Hedwig, before ordering delivered pizza, which arrived shortly later by floo. While they ate Sirius had insisted that Harry tell him exactly what had gone on throughout his years at Hogwarts, describe any new teachers and Harry's relationships with the other students.

Upon learning of Draco Malfoy, Sirius response was, "Narcissa _bred_ – what an insult to the gene pool. I imagine he's a right little brat," at which Harry nodded emphatically, and then delicately told the story of the end of Dumbledore. Sirius went dead silent.

"Well, now I know why you wrote McGonnagal not Dumbledore. Oh shit, that's just…"

Harry nodded, and continued on his story.

Sirius was _not_ pleased to learn that Severus Snape had gotten a job as Potions Master at the school, and was disgusted when Harry told him that Dumbledore trusted the man, and that had lead to his eventual demise. He made no effort to mask his hatred of Severus either.

"Though I do think, in some sick way, neither of those men who acted so darkly that night had any real choice in their actions from the moment Voldemort laid down his plan. It was as though they _had_ to follow through…"

As though sensing Harry's heavy thoughts, Sirius begun and kept up kept up a run of cheerful banter with Harry for the rest of the meal, asking over work as an Auror, and remembering small things about the beginning of the Order of the Phoenix. It seemed he remembered nothing that came after his twenty first birthday, however.

Suddenly he sat up and grinned, his eyes becoming very focused. "I remember! Your parents… they got married!"

Harry looked at Sirius strangely, about to point out that he had said that, then realised, Sirius was remembering, _being there!_ Right as Harry was about to ask Sirius to tell him about the wedding a tap at the window announced the return of Hedwig.

Harry retrieved and opened the envelope and flipped the letter out, reading it. "She says that she's going to come here tomorrow. She also tells me that if you go outside, I'm not allowed to follow you, but I shouldn't stop you, and I should do my best not to let you out of my sight, and at the slightest sign of foul play, I'm to stun or incapacitate you."

"She doesn't trust me then. Not surprising really," Sirius shrugged. "Now, tell me about the Order of the Phoenix … you've mentioned them a couple of times now. Where are they?"

Harry explained the Order of the Phoenix's headquarters to Sirius, and told him that they had lost many. He told Sirius a little about all of the surviving Order members, wondering if his godfather would remember any of them, and a few he did, although a couple of the names he found not so familiar. Moody he remembered as one of the greatest Aurors ever, and a couple of people he remembered from school, or social circles his parents had been involved with.

That night, when Harry announced he'd have to transfigure the sofa to fit Sirius, his godfather gave him a cheeky grin and shifted form with a soft 'pop', and the black dog – not as big, or as shaggy, as Harry remembered it being, and still very puppy like – flopped down over the two seater sofa, tongue lolling out as if it were grinning at him.

Harry woke with the warm weight landing on his feet, and the sun in his eyes. When he opened his eyes, he had to lift his hands to cover them and protect them from the blinding glare that was the sun. He blinked several times, peering between a gap in his fingers down to the end of his bed where Sirius was sprawled in dog form.

Harry groaned, seeing the time, half six in the morning. "Are you mad? GO AWAY!" He turned his head to the side, out of the suns glare, and closed his eyes again, drifting off to sleep again. He woke with Sirius standing over him, shaking him gently. Harry opened his eyes and blinked up his godfather, first in surprise, then in happiness. "Good morning, you're hard to wake up in the mornings, and you're a grouch. Like your mom," Sirius grinned at him.

"Morning, wait? What? No one has ever said I do anything like my mom before, just that I have her eyes." Harry said sleepily.

"Well I'm deliberately trying to spot the Lily in you I guess, so I stop mixing you with James. But I heard the sound of someone Aparating in," Sirius told him, "I think your Calvary has arrived, and not alone. There were three cracks."

Harry scrambled to his feet and began pulling on a pair of black slacks and oversized weasley jumper. "You're going outside wearing that?" Sirius asked him, "This is an important meeting! You look like someone just sorta… threw wool at you. Show me your clothes, you need to change … and I need something else to wear very soon …"

Harry looked down at what he was wearing, and admitted that Sirius had a point – his clothing was what he'd been wearing for the past two days, since he'd seen very little point in bothering to change. Sirius went over to Harry's wardrobe and went through it, tossing clothes out on the floor all over the place as he searched for something he deemed 'appropriate'.

"Don't you have anything nice?" Sirius asked, "These all wrong for you! What are _these?_" There were footsteps on the stairs outside now, it was obvious that McGonnagal and whoever she had brought with her where nearly upon them.

"Hand me downs, from years ago…" Harry replied, and Sirius rolled his eyes expressively. "In that case, we need to go shopping … but there's no time for that _now_, so, try… this." he thrust one of Harry's Auror robes at him, and Harry pulled it on quickly, just as a knock came on the door.

Harry walked over and pulled the door open. Professor Minerva McGonnagal was standing in front of him suddenly, looking down at him with an almost pitying look on her face, which annoyed Harry greatly. He didn't need pity, not now. He was happy now, and besides, he hadn't particularly wanted pity before anyway. Sympathy, yes, but not pity. Standing behind McGonnagal was Mad-Eye Moody and Bill Weasley.

"Good morning Harry," McGonnagal said with a smile. The other two men nodded in greeting.

"Morning," Harry said, pulling his door open, "Come in then …"

She nodded and the three of them walked passed Harry into the room, and then paused in surprise when they saw Sirius leaning against the window frame at the far side of the room, looking slightly windswept and quite handsome – Harry was sure that this look had been carefully arranged.

And where the _hell_ had he found those clothes? The brownish grey shirt could have been one of Dudley's hand me downs, but had the union jack on the front, making it new looking, and it was considerably shrunk, as were the old jeans he had clinging to his hips and falling in causal folds round his trainers. He also sported a knee length black jacket and the overall look was, well, awesome.

All three adults looked surprised to see someone else in the room, and Harry felt a flash of burning rage. McGonagall looked like she was going to faint, reaching back and clutching the arm of Moody tightly. They hadn't expected to find anyone here. They'd thought that he had been delusional and childish, dreaming of his godfather coming back to life… well, he had done that, but it hadn't been any ordinary dream. They could have had at least a little more faith in him, Harry thought.

"Hi," Sirius said with a charming grin, pushing himself away from the window and walking over, extending a hand. "Nice to meet you, I'm Sirius Black … Professor McGonagall," he added, nodding to the two teacher as he shook hands with her. "And you are, sir?" he asked, looking at Moody.

"Alastor Moody," the man growled.

"The Auror? People really have changed a lot …" Sirius muttered, and then offering his hand to Moody as well, who gave it a look then looked deliberately at McGonnagal without shaking it.

"I can't see any spells around his appearance," Moody addressed Minerva, his magical eye rolling to keep Sirius in sight at all times. "Couldn't tell if there was any Polyjuice potion being used. He doesn't seem to remember me, and you would assume that an impostor would have been informed of who everyone Potter knew was."

McGonnagal nodded, then looked at Sirius, "What is your last memory?"

"You coming through that door," Sirius replied.

"From before you came here," McGonnagal sighed.

"Uh … The oldest I've managed to remember so far is my twenty first birthday… Evans slapping James when he grabbed her ass and pointed out it was his to grab anyway," Sirius replied. "Then waking up in London and making my way here to find Harry."

"Why were you looking for Harry?"

"I came back to help him," Sirius replied. "And I'm feeling rather confused right now. The last I remember Evans had only just married James and Remus and Peter and well, everyone I KNOW! Now they're all different, and James and Lily are dead and have a twenty-odd year old son," there were tears in Sirius's eyes as he said that. "I've lost _everyone_, Peter's suddenly a little bastard and I'm an orphan!"

"Calm down," McGonnagal told him gently, soothingly. "So, you say you came back – from where?"

Sirius gave him a look that clearly said McGonnagal was being stupid, "From death."

"Because you had to help Harry – why?"

"If he doesn't learn to love, he will die, and the war will be lost. Apparently I'm the best person to do that," Sirius shrugged. "So I came back to save a world where I don't know anything about anyone because everyone I did know is now apparently dead. Except Remus, and he didn't even come to see me."

"We thought it best that Remus not be informed of this … development," Bill interjected gently, "In case … well, we didn't want to get his hopes up …"

"You mean in case I was having some deluded dream and had started hallucinating," Harry muttered angrily.

"Mr Potter!" McGonagall said sharply.

"Well?"

"The thought may have crossed our minds," Moody growled before McGonagall could continue. "And it was a valid assumption – as far as _I'm_ aware, the dead _stayed_ dead, and no one could change that, no matter what they might want."

Harry shrugged, feeling uncomfortable under the gaze of both of Moody's eyes suddenly fixing on him, before the magical one rolled back to watch Sirius. Moody obviously still didn't completely trust him, but then, it _was_ Moody.

"The one thing I can see as being acceptable proof of Sirius's identity, short of truth potions, which did not bring with us," McGonnagal suddenly announced, "Is to test his Animagus form. That cannot be faked, nor replicated with any potion or spell."

Immediately everyone turned to look at Sirius in expectation. Sirius looked momentarily surprised, then carefully changed his expression to one of nonchalance, "I don't know what you're talking about – I'm not an Animagus. That's illegal, and I'm too young anyway… wait, no I'm not. But I'm not…"

"You told us about your Animagus form many years ago," McGonnagal told him gently, "Rest assured, you will get in no trouble over it at all – we have no intention of informing the Ministry about anything to do with you at present."

"Oh, in that case," There was a soft pop and Sirius immediately took the form a black dog, just reaching it's maturity, paws still a little too big for it's body and it's head slightly overlarge as well. For a moment, he stayed that way, letting the three adults examine his form with their eyes, before changing back to human form.

"Thank you, Sirius," McGonnagal said with a smile. "Though I don't completely understand how this has happened, and I doubt that either of you do either, I think we have our proof that Sirius is exactly who he says he is. Now we just have to decide on a course of action …"

"You aren't taking Sirius away, he stays with me." Harry replied, eyes suddenly dangerous, as if daring the Order to try. Sirius walked over to stand beside Harry.

"Harry is about the one thing that is certain for me at the moment," he pointed out to the others, "I would be very uncomfortable if we were separated … even if I saw Moony, it wouldn't be the same, because he's so much older and I'm still the same age."

McGonnagal smiled, "I see we have at least one thing planned. Whatever happens, Harry and Sirius will be doing it together," she remarked. "Perhaps this is not the best place to come up with any plans … Sirius, how would you feel about visiting your old home at Grimmauld Place?"

"Harry told me that's where you guys have your safe house … if I went back there as a man, I suppose I can go back there now. Is Remus there?"

"He is," McGonagal confirmed, "In fact, Moody, perhaps you should go back and warn him about what has just has occurred … I don't think he could handle it if the man he has mourned turned up as a twenty one year old, out of the blue like this."

Alastor nodded, and, with a loud crack, dissaparated.

Sirius and Harry nodded. "We're burning everything in your wardrobe and starting from scratch," Sirius told Harry suddenly, as the other boy went to start picking up the clothes that Sirius had thrown haphazardly on the floor moments before. "Grab your galleons, we're going to have to go shopping, both of us."

Harry eyed a drawer and considered a concealing charm to protect it. Inside, lovingly folded and cherished, was all of the jumpers that Molly had ever made him over the years, but too late Sirius opened it and made a face. "My friend's mum knitted them for me," Harry said defensively, looking at Sirius, and closing the drawer.

"I didn't say anything," Sirius said hastily, holding up his hands.

The giant chandelier overhead was a marvel of bright crystalline candlelight, and its soft, but surprisingly dazzling glow lit up every corner of the grand ballroom, which overlooked he frozen ice fields of the Siberian countryside. It was in that moment that his life changed, Draco Malfoy would in the future muse to himself in moments of self-contemplation. In that otherwise inconspicuous second, when he stood in his finest dress robes, made from a heavy black silk, he heard it.

"And Hermione Granger is single again, it's quite the scandal, let me tell you!"

Draco stiffened, his whole body, focus and attention fixated on the conversation directly behind him. His hearing strained to block out the string quartet in the corner and divine out the words, listen to what was being said behind him. He knew the voice, it occurred to him, and it wasn't surprising that other British Witches and Wizards would be present at this international charity event, and the accompanying Quidditch game that had been held earlier in the day.

He had brought his secretary to the stupid thing, after her hints, which were as subtle as fuchsia kneazles charmed to sing the national anthem, had become intolerable. Sort of as a test for the girl to see if he should make the woman his mistress. The gold clad woman was now flaunting herself all over the dance floor and frankly, she was making Draco shudder from her display.

He half turned to look at the two women with his peripheral vision. One was much older than the other, but it was the younger he recognised as he turned back to the dance floor. Half to watch over his date, who was swiftly becoming too drunk, half to conceal his identity. He didn't think Lavender Brown would be too pleased he was listening in on her conversation.

"And now everyone thinks we slept together, but seriously, we just had coffee. I can't tell you everything but seriously. How long did Ron think Hermione was going to stay oblivious? Its been five years, and he hasn't been faithful for all of them, let me tell you that, so I guess I understand why she's so upset."

Draco didn't think he would be able to control himself as the half conversation he had tuned into turned out to be exactly what he had hoped. Hermione Granger was nursing a broken heart. He'd always known Weasley would do something to fuck it all up. He didn't deserve Granger. It wasn't that he wanted her for himself, far from it. She wasn't pure for one, he told himself. All he wanted was to get her out of his system. He had convinced himself over the years that just having her for one night, spending himself in her, would solve the small obsession.

It had all begun when she had turned up to the Yule Ball in fourth year. She'd been so… un-Granger. Frankly beautiful, and he'd had to bite his tongue all evening, and focus all his attention on Pansy to stop himself from looking at her. Because that had been the first time he had realised she was _female_.

Fifth year he had been nasty as hell. He knew it, but at the time he had been struggling with a massive crush, and a huge erection every time she sat anywhere near him in class. Her smell didn't help.

He had, until five minutes ago, let himself almost believe that it had all been the last figment of his boy hood, and that he had moved on from his stupid crush. But now, it seemed, Grangers allure was as potent as ever. But for now he pushed away from the marble column he was leaning against and strode to the far side of the room and out onto the wide balcony area, where people were milling around watching the fantastic celestial display of stars.

Nyxia gritted her teeth and forced out her 'pleasant social smile', the kind of smile that shows on the lips but goes no further. If one more person came up to offer their condolences for the death of her Grandfather she was going to start smashing stuff. Instead she stood there, her hands held in the dry and papery hands of one of her grandfathers barest acquaintances as he told her how sorry he was, as if he cared. She used the excuse of adjusting her skirt to let go. Her dress was something of a marvel actually. It was made from one of the old red velvet soviet flags, so that the golden hammer and sickle device across her chest and waist. She had specified the designer not to cut the flag, and he had done a marvellous job with the massive flag, creating a full skirt around her legs from the excess.

As soon as the person left, her smile disappeared and her impassive mask dropped like a shield. She was getting heartily sick of this, she just wanted to go back to her room and take a nice long soak in a tub of steaming hot water.

Viktor hadn't missed the slight tensing of his friends jaw muscles and knew her well enough by now to know that she was getting seriously pissed of. After knowing Nyxia for so many years he had learned to read her subtler body language in order to know what she was really feeling, it wasn't always easy as she was very good at hiding what she felt. But tonight Nyxia was tired and still wrung out from the funeral so her control was slipping a bit.

He looked around at Stan sitting on the other side of him and gave a small smile, the woman who had been hitting on him for the past ten minutes had now practically crawled into his lap. Stan was rejecting her advances in a polite way but unfortunately it wasn't working. She had just rocked up to their table in her clingy gold dress and just started chatting. Viktor had politely ignored her, which was a very effective deterrent, but poor Stan had made the mistake of making eye contact and responding. Now he couldn't get rid of her.

Touching Nyxia's hand to get her attention as she sat back in the gilded chair to his left, Viktor discreetly pointed in Stan's direction. Nyxia flashed a wicked mischievous smile, she couldn't stand stupid little twits and took immense delight in shooting them down whenever possible, figuratively and literally. Although she never got the chance to carry out the latter, she had often threatened. Gathering her skirts, she stood up and walked around the table in a calm manner. She highly doubted that the bimbo had noticed her sitting two chairs over which was fine by her. Tapping the woman on the shoulder she handed her Viktor's empty glass.

"Go get me another one, there's a dear." Nyxia said to the slightly confused woman, she then placed herself in Stan's lap and gave him a kiss on the cheek, "I'm sorry honey, I didn't mean to leave you alone for so long. I do hope you weren't too bored."

The gold woman gave a huff and put the glass down on the table with more force then was required, "I'm not a waitress," she said.

"Are you serious?" Nyxia raised an eyebrow and stood up so that she was facing the woman. Suppressing the urge to wrinkle her nose at the strong smell of alcohol that wafted from the woman, she gave her hollow 'pity' smile and used her most honey sweet tone of voice, the one that she used when physical pain is imminent.

"Then I apologise, I just assumed from your behaviour that you were … hmm, how to put this delicately?" She pressed the tip of one of her lethal looking long red fingernails to her bottom lip, "A drunken slut. Wait… no. A social climber of the lowest variety using a public event to try and charm her way in to the pants of the rich and famous? Was that too harsh?" Nyxia just kept smiling sweetly, as if waiting. "Now is the moment when you leave. Now scat." She made shooing motions with her hands.

With another, very annoyed, huff the woman stalked off. Stan gave a sigh of relief, resting his head on Nyxia's shoulder.

"Thank you, lovely, lovely Nyxia, I thought she would never leave." He said putting one hand across his eyes.

Nyxia turned to him and smacked him lightly on the top of the head, her face becoming playful and all her shields and walls allowing the boys too see past to the real girl. "Fool," she said, "haven't you been taught how to repel idiots like her?"

Stan gave a noncommittal shrug, "I figured she would've gotten the idea."

She gave a sneer, "She was drunk, she wouldn't have noticed your rejections unless you slapped her across the face with them," she then gave Stan a genuine smile to help take the sting from her words, "I suppose it's not your fault, you have always been unwilling to be really mean," she gave a pause, "Don't change."

She looked around and instantly the social mask dropped into place. Viktor looked around and spotted another boring old man heading their way, presumedly to offer their condolences to Nyxia and basically try to take advantage of her grief to get her involved in their interests. Which usually turned out to be a large sum of money needed to invest in some new business or another. Standing up he walked over and offered her his hand.

"Would you care to dance?" he asked her.

Nyxia took the opening that he offered her and put her hand in his.

"I would like that very much." She replied.

Viktor swept her off onto the dance floor before anyone could intercept them.

The girl held herself with poise and elegance, as though she were born to hold all the eyes in the room. Her dress, red with the bust emblazoned with the soviet crest, marked her as a supporter of the Soviet team, and she was, unmistakeably, a pureblood. She turned her flashing eyes, the colour of dark chocolate, that shone with a sort of inner light, up to her partner and said something in Russian. Her voice clinched it. Draco knew this girl.

He couldn't place it, but it was in her eyes, the way she moved. Draco had met the girl before.

He turned his attention back to his current dance partner, the wife of one of his fathers friend and a woman he knew he had to keep up the perfect Malfoy image with. Her name was Iphigenia McNair, and she was involved with the Dark Lord and his business up to her neck. She was a stately old bag, with her stiff olive green dress and steel grey hair.

"My apologies, but the lady in the red dress… do we know her?" Draco asked, his voice a soft murmur near Iphigenia's ear.

McNair turned her stately head, and looked the girl up and down, before turning back to face Draco, "She has a familiar air to her, though I don't know who precisely she is. No one does. Her name is "Nyx" and it is rumoured, and she spends all her time with him." She gestured with a tilt of the head to Nyxia's partner.

Draco noticed for the first time that the familiar girl was dancing with Viktor Krum.

As the dance ended and his partner was politely taken to dance by her husband, Draco made his way over to where Nyxia and Krum stood.

"Krum. May I steal a dance from your beautiful partner?" Draco asked.

He knew the look Krum gave him, somewhere between suspicion and Hostility. He had received it ever since the incident with Dumbledore, and if he were frank, he had to admit it annoyed the fuck out of him when people judged him in such a manner. Krum's face seemed to at least hold some vague look about it as though he thought perhaps Draco was innocent. He kept his face in an impassive and casual smirk, however, and lifted his hand to the girl.

She looked up at Krum as she placed her hand in Draco's, her face almost bordering confusion. She didn't know who he was then. She then came into his arms and the dance began. Her steps were light, and were executed with well-practised ease. Her eyes trained on a spot over his left shoulder, a half smile on her face. It seemed she was perfectly happy, and if anything slightly bored.

That would have all been well and good, had Draco believed one second of it. He had spent enough time in the last few years with people pretending to be something they are not to pick the signs. Her eyes, dark depths, had a certain emotion, pushed well back, that surged forward every now and again. Sadness, a deep-seated sorrow. Her mouth, lush and perfectly shaped, though carefully shaped into half a smile, wavered in those seconds.

"Forgive me if this sounds forward, but I believe, in fact I'm quite sure, we've met…"

She turned her eyes up to his face and shook her head, her brows knitting together in concentration, "No. We haven't."

Draco smiled, "I know your face, it seems quite familiar to me. You attended Durmstrang I take it?"

"Yes, but I'm quite sure I've never met you before now Mr. Malfoy, though Viktor has interesting things to say about you." Her voice held a cultured Russian accent, but there it was again, a certain familiarity.

Draco couldn't help but have a smirk spread across his face at this face, "Oh, I hope at least some of it was nice."

She looked back up at him, her eyes coming alive with dark mischief; she raised her eyebrows and shrugged, "Some, and some, though speculation, was downright intriguing. How does it feel to be infamous for a crime you yourself _couldn't_ commit?"

Draco had to admire the girl even more. Her brash forwardness was fucking _refreshing_ after the way most danced around him or pretended. He mused for a second on how hard or easy it may be to get her into bed, but in the end decided that her identity was a far more interesting conquest.

"Tell me your full name?" He inquired, bending his head low, his mouth near her ear.

"No"

"Tell me."

"Why should I?"

"Please?"

"Begging Mr. Malfoy?" She said in an innocent enough tone.

"Not a chance in hell, who are you?"

She spun away from him as the dance ended, a flourish of red velvet and sneaky smile. "I'm none of your concern Mr. Malfoy, and good evening to you." She walked away.

Ginny Weasley, dressed in her lime green Healers Robes, walked down the hall to the Doctors Lockers in St. Mungo's Hospital. Her once long read hair, now hung straight to her shoulders in careless layers, though her freckles remained the same. Much to her detriment. She had passed her exams and gone straight into training as a healer from Hogwarts.

She saw it as her way to help in the war. Her brothers and Father in the fight already, she had seen the devastation that a fight could inflict, and after they had nearly lost George at the end of her seventh year. She remembered the terrified, colourless look on Fred's face, and the sound of her mother sobbing. All her brothers had been there, and Fleur with baby Thomas. Her family had sat in these halls for hours, waiting and hoping. Harry had been there, and he had held her hand, she recalled every second in perfect clarity. He had held her hand and she had clung to it like a lifeline. She had decided in that moment, that she would be a healer.

And she frankly loved the work. She had a specialty in healing charms and hex reversal, but spent a lot of time in the paediatric ward. She loved the children she worked with, and taking care of them. One day she would talk Harry into having children. She just had to prove her place in this fight first. She made a difference, and one day, when the final fight came, she knew she would be needed, because it was going to get nasty.

She entered the lockers and almost ran straight into Neville, a fellow healer and Order member.

"Hold on there Red," he said with an affectionate grin, "Got a date or something?"

Ginny grinned. Neville was one of her best friends, and had helped her through the entire unit on Herbolgenic Healing, in fact, he had published quite a few definitive papers on the us of various plants in the Healing of illness, specifically one he wrote on the use of rose-petal essence in the improvement of the state of mind and attitudes of those suffering from Crucio-infirmity.

"No, I heard you were leaving, I'm on duty up at the headquarters tonight, so are you, thought we could grab something to eat and perhaps floo up together?"

Neville grinned, "Sounds like a plan to me."

Ginny grinned right back, shrugging out of her robes and into a coat, "Good, cos' it's your turn to pay."

REVIEW!

Ello all – yes, nasty Principessa didn't dance much with some of our favourites from the Harry-Verse, but Hermione makes her grand appearance soon. Review me if you luff' me, or I'll cry, loose my motivation and no more story for anyone! - **_Princess..._**

_**Vellouette**_ - You are a doll - really. Thanks for reviewing!

**_Fifespice_** - Thanks for reviewing!


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